


French Press

by foolish_mortal



Category: Godzilla (1998)
Genre: M/M, Rare Fandoms, Rare Pairing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolish_mortal/pseuds/foolish_mortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was all the things no one publicly said happened about the Godzilla incident that got Nick an invitation to a small quiet conference in Grenoble, France that was discretely inviting all the right people from some of the finest nuclear research facilities in Europe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	French Press

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the movie.

It was all the things no one publicly said happened about the Godzilla incident that got Nick an invitation to a small quiet conference in Grenoble, France that was inviting all the right people from some of the finest nuclear research facilities in Europe.

He didn’t have much to do since the government had him on standby, someone else had taken over his project with the worms in Chernobyl, and the loud crush of Manhattan was driving him crazy. So he flew into Lyon Saint Geoirs early in the afternoon and checked into a huge tiered hotel near the centre of town where all the other members of the conference were being put up. He unpacked his pathetic stacks of undershirts, socks, and boxers and hung his few plastic-covered suits in the closet along with his ties. He napped for a while and woke up  around five o’clock, disconcerted by the fast fading daylight and the unfamiliar sounds of traffic coming from the street.

He dutifully called Audrey like he said he would even though it cost an arm and a leg, and she made him promise five times that he would tell her about anything exciting that happened at the conference. He didn’t know how to tell her that the most exciting thing there would probably be the wine selection at the refreshment table.

He hung up, brushed his teeth, and tried to freshen up as much as jetlag would let him. Then he figured what the hell, because he’d come in half a day early so the other guests probably weren’t here yet, and there had to be a good café around here somewhere. So he put on his crumpled clothes, went to bother the concierge at the desk, and was presently in a little café just two blocks down with a plate of some kind of fried bread filled with potatoes and meat.

He and Audrey could have had a romantic dinner here if she hadn’t had so much work back in New York. He hated leaving her just as they’d grown closer again, but she was getting swamped with assignments, and for once in his life he felt like getting out of his shell a little. Maybe it was his sudden brushes with death. He probably wouldn’t have taken up the worm project again even if they had given it back to him; he wasn’t sure Audrey would be quite as impressed if he told her the full extent of his work at Chernobyl. He wondered what it said about him that most people coped with death by scarfing junk food and hanging out with friends and he was going to a nuclear conference where he’d be lucky if his college French would get him directions to the lavatory.

But he was starting to like it here. They hadn’t been lying about the food, and the old buildings he had passed on the way were beautiful. The feel of France was completely different from the states, and he had to admit the view from the base of the Alps was spectacular. No wonder Roache had been so fiercely protective of it; Nick had no doubt Roache’s quiet vigilant patriotism more than rivalled the loud American flag t-shirts and rousing slogans back home. He wondered what the guy would say if he knew Nick was staying in France.

He wondered if he would ever see Roache again or if the man had already been shipped off to another country, another assignment far away from his beloved _Republique fran?aise_. Roache had been a good guy-  Nick remembered he had treated even a lowly worm guy with respect. Roache never doubted Nick could fulfil his expectations, and he’d even let him suit up and head out with his team. He’d believed in him when no one else had. Chapman had never expected much out of Nick. Hell, if he were being brutally honest with himself, Audrey’d just wanted him to hand her a scoop-

No, he didn’t want to think about that. It was her job, and he didn’t hold any grudges against her. She’d even apologised and cried. God, he hadn’t been able to stand seeing her cry.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and sat back to people watch from his post in the far corner. Everybody he had seen here aside from the overly-enthusiastic greeter assigned to meet him at the airport was tight-lipped and serious, and he wondered how this place was ever supposed to be the city of romance, joie de vivre and all that. Or maybe that was Paris. Whatever. Over in the States he had been told that the French did everything better- food, love. Hell, _life._ It was disappointing.

He wondered if it was because he was an American and if it was painfully obvious. He tried looking like he belonged here- eating unhurriedly and looking a little bored- but it was…itchy and didn’t sit with him very well. Years of popping caffeine pills for his PhD had echoed down with him through the years, and many of his colleagues still often called his scientific approach frenetic and exhausting.

If he remembered correctly, it was why he and Audrey had broken up in college. They’d had some date- he didn’t really remember- but he’d found some really interesting Cesium-137 readings from his Three Mile Island goat milk samples and suddenly two hours had turned into eight had turned into forty eight. He didn’t know how or when exactly they broke up; he vaguely remembered her walking into the lab yelling at him a day later. She’d thrown something at his head, and it hadn’t been till later that he realised it was the cracker jack ring he’d given her the day they’d gone out to the home team’s baseball game, and she’d kissed him for the first time in the concession stand line during the seventh inning stretch.

By the time he’d figured it out, it had been too late.

He still missed the soft dreamy girl he used to have dinner with every week at the college pub. But he had changed, and who was he to cast aspersions on her? And he still loved her even though she’d broken his heart and left him. The girl he’d fallen for years and years ago was still in there somewhere, and he figured they would probably work better now. They were both older, Audrey was getting a foot in the door at her job, and his own research was gravitating from cockroaches and goat’s milk to...worms. Yeah. Maybe leaving the country was also useful at keeping her believing he was a lot more interesting than he actually was.

He could send her a postcard or get her some little piece of jewellery while he was here. Girls liked that, didn’t they? Maybe a pair of earrings or a pin to stick on her suit lapel. Something to go with her eyes.

He didn’t notice the shadow until someone put a folded newspaper on the plate in front of him. “Niko Tapotolus.”

“It’s Tatopoulos,” Nick said with a little irritation and looked up. His eyes widened. “R-Roache?”

Roache grinned down at him. He looked strange in his dark brown civilian jacket. “May I sit down, Niko Tatopoulos? Mm, croquette,” he added with approving glance at Nick’s plate.

Nick toed the chair across from him and Roache took it. He studied Nick for a moment, and it was as disconcerting as ever. “You look well.”

“So do you,” Nick replied and meant it. The puffy dark circles under Roache’s eyes were gone, and it looked like he had shaved sometime in the past week. “I take it things have been going well for your ah, insurance company?”

Roache inclined his head. “Yes. For you too, it seems. Not many people are asked to attend the Grenoble conference.”

“I didn’t know about it before.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.”

And wasn’t it just like Roache to say something cryptic like that. It was too much like old times. Nick tried to smile. “Hey, Animal’s still waiting for his doctored tape.”

“Is he?”

He shrugged. Animal had actually just written the thing off as a lost cause a few months ago, but it was an ice breaker. “Well, I am too. Was.” He popped the last bit of croquette into his mouth. “I mean, we hadn’t heard from you in months. If you’d sent the package we would have at least known you got back to France alright.”

“It is nice that everyone is so concerned about me,” Roache drawled.

Nick coughed. “Well, I- all of us thought you-” but Roache had flagged down one of the waiters and wasn’t listening. “ _Une croquet-monsieur,_ ” He looked at Nick. “ _Et deux cafes, s'il vous plait. Merci.”_

“Oh no.” Nick held up his hands. “I don’t want you to order something for me. I’m full, really.”

“You will drink the coffee here,” Roache said gravely. “And you will never go back to that disgusting American tar again.”

“O-okay,” Nick conceded, because Roache was terrifying when it came to illegal weaponry and hot beverages. Nick had seen the full spectrum of it back in New York and would never buy a French Roast for as long as he lived. “So uh, what are you doing here exactly?” he asked as the waiter took away his plate.

Roache looked at him with perfect innocence. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you just _happen_ to be in Grenoble today when my flight’s coming in?”

“It is my country, and it is one of the most important nuclear conferences of the year. Perhaps I should ask what _you_ are doing here.”

“I was _invited._ ” Nick crossed his arms. “You’re not following me or something, are you?”

Roache shrugged and looked away. “My company is very grateful for everything you did for them. You could say they wish to extend you a warm welcome.”

“So they send a secret s- an insurance guy?”

Roache’s grin showed a lot of his teeth. “Perhaps I volunteered.”

“Oh,” was all Nick could say as their coffee came. Roache had ordered some kind of ham sandwich with melted cheese.

“So how is America, Niko?” Roache asked and took a huge bite of his sandwich.

Nick opened his mouth to correct him, but didn’t. In his town he’d been embarrassed to be Greek, but in Europe he was quickly suspecting he was supposed to be embarrassed to be American. “It’s okay. They’re still rebuilding the mess in New York. The government’s been trying to find out where Godzilla came from-” Roache stopped chewing. Nick shook his head. “No, nothing points to you, and I haven’t said _anything_. I swear.”

Roach held up a hand. “I believe you,” he said. “I would never have put you on my team if I didn’t trust you.”

“Yeah,” Nick felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I’m sorry about your team.”

Roache nodded and the corner of his mouth turned down. “They were good men and gave their lives for their country. It is enough. Their families know they died as heroes.” He jerked his chin. “And what about your heroes? Is your young woman still with the press?”

“Hmm.” Nick took a sip of the coffee and then pulled it away to stare at it. “ _Wow_.”

“You see?” Roache said, looking pleased.

“I think so,” Nick murmured and drank some more. “I don’t think I can go back to Starbucks now.”

“ _Starbucks,”_ Roache repeated in disgust, and Nick hid a smile behind his cup.

“Isn’t there anything you liked about America?”

“You have a very good road system,” Roache conceded and then looked at him. “And some of the people are not so bad.”

Nick looked away. “Oh no. I’m not exactly- I’m _boring_.”

“Who said that?”

“I don’t know,” Nick muttered into his cup. “Just...people, I guess.”

Roache hmmed but said nothing. Nick watched him eat his sandwich for a few moments but then began to fidget as he saw Roache had no intention of leaving. He pushed back his chair. “I should uh, go back. Audrey...might call back.”

“Of course,” Roache said and spread his hands outward. “I had forgotten about your short American lunches.” He raised his coffee. “I will see you soon, Niko.”

Funny, that should have sounded like a threat, but Nick just found himself nodding. He wondered what extra business the French Secret Service could have with him. “My conference ends at four tomorrow.”

“I know.”

Nick threw down some francs for both of them and grabbed his jacket. “I really should go,” he babbled and hoped he wouldn’t feel Roache’s point-blank stare on his back when he turned around. It was perhaps more unnerving that Roache was content to go on eating his sandwich; Nick wasn’t sure if that was intentional.

All he knew was that he was already on his way back to the hotel, and his half-full cup of coffee was still sitting on the table back at the cafe, which was a pity because it had been delicious.


End file.
